


Moving Forward

by Regen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Very slight mention of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regen/pseuds/Regen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take on Act III's Questioning Beliefs, friendship!romanced version. Fenris and Hawke talk about Fenris's future, about moving forward... and about That Night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Forward

It’d been two days since Danarius made his dramatic entrance – and earned his long overdue comeuppance – at the Hanged Man. Fenris had been left reeling from the encounter, and so Hawke had decided to give him some space to process what had happened. Danarius suddenly showing up must have been a shock, but to have his sister betray him as well…

Hawke knew what it was like to lose family, but at least she could say she’d never been betrayed by them. She understood Varania’s motivations to a point; clearly her situation had been desperate. Yet, to turn on her own brother and to sell him out to Danarius seemed far too cruel.

Varania’s departing words still rang in Hawke’s mind: _“Freedom was no boon. I look on you now and I think you received the better end of the bargain.”_

A part of Hawke had almost regretted talking Fenris out of killing his sister after that comment.

_It’s done with,_ Hawke thought. Varania was gone. She needed to focus her attention on Fenris, and see if he was holding up all right.

She entered his borrowed mansion, her hand brushing against her cheek. The display of affection after the battle with Danarius had surprised her at the time. She relished it, even as brief as it had been. And then there was the adoration that had been in his eyes. Her mind still spun in circles over what to make of it on top of everything else.

Relm shook her head. _Don’t,_ she told herself as she climbed the grand staircase to the second level. She refused to get her hopes up. Their chance at something more had come and gone. He needed her as a friend, and she would shove everything aside for tonight to be there for him.

Aveline’s voice drifted from one of the rooms; it seemed Relm wasn’t the only one who had come to check up on Fenris. She headed in the direction of the captain’s voice, now joined by Varric’s.

She poked her head into the room and found her two friends conversing with Fenris. She hung back to listen to what they were talking about.

“You don’t need to stay in this pit anymore, you know,” Varric said. His back was turned to Hawke, but she could see him crossing his arms. “Not that you haven’t, uh, fixed it up nicely.”

_Yes, with all the rotting corpses now tossed into the basement._ Hawke smiled, recalling that particularly fun project.

Aveline shot Varric a dead pan look. “It’s falling apart. And my ability to keep the seneschal from noticing is nearing an end.”

Given the lack of surprise from Fenris, he clearly knew this was coming. Still, he seemed unconcerned as he nodded. “I appreciate what you’ve done, Aveline.”

“But you’re staying,” Varric said in disbelief. “You can go anywhere now.”

Hawke blinked in surprise. _He’s right. He could. So why…?_

Fenris’s gaze shifted from the dwarf and went straight to Hawke. She stilled, eyes widening slightly in surprise. She shook her head slightly, indicating that she didn’t wish to disturb their conversation.

Despite her gesture, Fenris kept his eyes trained on her, giving her a look she couldn’t decipher. Without missing a beat, he said, “Perhaps I don’t wish to go anywhere.”

Her heart squeezed, and hope bubbled in her chest. Relm quickly squashed it. _He may only intend to stay until he can figure something else out. Where else would he go right now, anyway?_

Aveline glanced over her shoulder to see what Fenris was looking at. Seeing Hawke, she indicated to Varric that it was time to leave.

The dwarf sighed and waved to Fenris. “Freedom must be a terrible burden, I guess.”

They nodded to Hawke in passing as they headed for the door.

She only barely registered to nod back, her thoughts tangled up with other concerns, mainly the elf sitting next to the fireplace, still giving her that unreadable look. His gaze drew her in; she found herself stepping closer, like a fish to the tempting worm on a hook.

Suddenly, Fenris sighed and looked away. “They don’t understand. Yes, I am free. Danarius is dead. Yet it doesn’t feel like it should.”

Hawke took a seat next to him, leaning forward on her elbows as she propped them up on her knees. “Seems like you should be dancing for joy.” Really, she had expected a drunken celebration of Danarius’s demise. One she would have happily attended.

“I would have thought so.” Fenris’s ears twitched, his usual scowling gaze aimed at the floor. “I thought that if I didn’t need to run and fight to stay alive, I’d finally be able to live as a free man does. But how is that?” He looked back up at Hawke, almost like he expected her to know. “My sister is gone and I have nothing. Not even an enemy.”

That’s when it dawned on her what Fenris struggled with, why he hadn’t been able to celebrate or announce any grand plans as to what to do with his solidified freedom: he had lost his purpose. As much as he had hated Danarius, he had been his focus for years. Now he was gone, and Fenris was left with no direction.

Hawke bit her bottom lip softly, pondering what to tell him. Perhaps it wasn’t simply encouragement he needed, but a shift in perspective. “Maybe…” She tilted her head to the side, trying to figure out the words. “that just means there’s nothing holding you back.”

“Hm. An interesting thought.” He nodded, accepting her words. “It’s just… difficult to overlook the stain that magic has left on my life. If I seem bitter, it’s not without cause.”

He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. If he had been expecting her to say something about magic, he would find himself disappointed. She had long since learned not to argue that subject with him, when it could be avoided.

He snorted softly, almost inaudibly, before he continued, “Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don’t know where that leads. Do you?”

_No idea._ The possibilities were numberless, but he didn’t need to hear that. If anything, he was likely overwhelmed with all of his choices. Once again, she found herself struggling to think of some words of wisdom for him.

Of course, there was what she _really_ wanted to say to him. That she hoped he meant what he said and that he would stay. That seeing him leave would break her heart, even if it was best course of action for him. The weight of her thoughts made her shoulders sag, and her gaze dropped to the fire burning in the fireplace.

“Hawke?” Fenris’s voice was gentle as it pulled her from her thoughts. When she looked up, she was met with a questioning gaze. “What is it?”

Was honesty the best policy here? She struggled to decide. She didn’t want to intimidate him. Though whatever relationship they could have had was gone, she still valued him as a friend. He deserved to know that much. “Wherever it leads, I hope it means we’ll stay together.” She let out a shaky breath. “In whatever capacity. It’d be strange not having you around after so long,” she added hastily, trying to lighten the tone.

“That is my hope as well.”

He gave her that sweet dimpled smile she adored, and Hawke felt her knees grow weak.

_Maker, get yourself together._ It’d been years since he had this effect on her. Not since before that night had she felt like this around him. She never stopped caring about him, or wanting him, but the giddiness she used to feel when he was around had waned after he left her. It made her a little nostalgic.

Fenris looked away, his gaze guilt-ridden but determined as he continued, “We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago.”

Hawke’s head snapped up in surprise, her mouth hung open marginally. Fenris avoided her gaze, but he didn’t falter, even as she sat in stunned silence.

_Is he really…?_

“You didn’t want to talk about it,” she said. Every time she had tried to bring it up, even as half-assed as some of her attempts were, he had clammed up. She’d given up a long time ago.

“I felt like a fool.” His fists clenched in his lap. “I thought it better if you hated me. I deserve no less. But it isn’t better.”

_Oh, Fenris._ His words broke her heart. She wanted to speak up, to tell him that he deserved any happiness he could get, and that she couldn’t hate him. Her fingers twitched, wanting to take his hand. But he needed to talk more than he needed her comfort, so she remained silent and listened.

He stood up suddenly, looking as if he were going to start pacing. Instead, he remained still, keeping his determined gaze fixed on hers. “That night… I remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I should have asked for your forgiveness long ago.” He hesitated, but pressed on despite the fear Relm could see in his eyes. “I hope you can forgive me now.”

She desperately wanted to say yes and ease his fears, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

“I need to understand why you left, Fenris.”

Fenris looked away, his earlier determination faltering. His ears drooped as his eyes softened. Regret furrowed his brow. Hawke knew that look. The “sad, puppy eyes” look, as Merrill had dubbed it. Fitting, considering how she currently felt like an asshole who kicked puppies for fun.

“I thought about the answer a thousand times.” His voice cracked. “The pain, the memories it brought up. It was too much.”

So, he had been overwhelmed. She understood that, as much as it had stung. Even though that was the answer she’d been expecting, it still helped to hear it, especially now that they had some distance from that night and could look back on it more objectively.

She tried to focus on those thoughts and not the ones that screamed for her to say “fuck it” and pull him into a fierce hug. The regret that threaded his tone hurt worse than any physical wound he could ever inflict.

Oblivious to her inner musings, he glowered at the wall. “I was a coward. If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt.”

“What would you have said?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Without hesitation, without his usual faltering, Fenris finally looked her dead in the eye and said, “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

The weight of his words slammed into her, leaving her breathless. She stared, unmoving and completely at a loss as to how to respond.

He loved her. After all this time, after everything that had transpired, he felt the same as her. Her mind reeled at the implications. _He still cares about me. He never stopped,_ she repeated, over and over until it finally began to sink in.

She let out a shaky laugh, a weak attempt to combat the tears stinging at her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know.” Even as she tried to sound like she was joking, her voice cracked. “This might be fun to hold over you awhile longer.”

He knelt down in front of her, fingers brushing against her knee: a deliberate movement that sent goosebumps exploding over her skin. The puppy eyes look was gone, now refitted with renewed confidence. “If there is a future to be had,” he said, “I will walk to it gladly at your side.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she gasped, feeling foolish as soon as she said it. Her hand slapped over her mouth as she bit down on her lip, hoping to the Maker, Andraste and whoever else could hear that she would not break down and cry. For three years, she buried all hope of ever being able to be anything more than friends with Fenris. She counted herself lucky to have even that with him, and she had resigned herself to be content with it. But now all that hope she had suppressed blazed through her, powerful and unbridled.

“Really?” she choked out.

“Really,” he affirmed, lifting his hand to brush a stray tear that had fallen. “Are you…?”

_Happy? Tremendously. Going to cry? Fuck, I hope not_. But rather than answer his half-spoken question, she pulled him into her arms, burying her head against the side of his neck.

Without a hitch in stride, he returned the gesture. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist. He sat back on the floor, pulling her into his lap. She curled up against him, silently reveling in feeling his skin against hers again.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I am yours, if you will have me,” he murmured against her hair, his breath ghosting over her scalp.

“Okay, now you’re deliberately trying to make me cry, you arse.” She sniffed, stubbornly wiping away a few more tears. She took a bracing breath. “When we tell this to Varric – because you know we’ll have to – let’s leave out the part where I’m a gibbering, teary wreck and pretend I was all stalwart. I have a reputation to maintain, after all.”

“I’d hardly call you gibbering. You’re still quite coherent.” His nose brushed against her forehead. “But if you prefer we can do that, yes. Varric will likely add some obnoxious spin to this, anyway.”

She nodded, inhaling deeply and taking in his scent. He still smelled like he did three years ago: metal polish and lyrium, mingled faintly with sweat, though not unpleasantly. Her hand gently traced part of the markings on his neck. He shivered slightly under her touch.

“As to your offer…” She looked up at him, smiling widely. “Do you really need to ask?” She sat up until she was straddling him, so she could look him dead in the eye as she gave her answer. Her hands cupped his face, her thumbs gently running across his cheekbones. “You are mine, and I am yours. You’ve had me for years.”

Fenris stared, completely transfixed. Relm’s heart hammered against her ribcage as she waited, counting the number of heartbeats it took for him to respond (it was six).

Then he smiled.

She’d seen the scope of his smiles. His little half smirks, which were the most common by far. But also his wry smiles when he won at Wicked Grace (especially if he managed to trounce Varric), and the sweet, shy smiles reserved only for Hawke. His wicked grin when he tripped up Isabela in her own jokes and got her to laugh, and the slow albeit sadistic smiles when slavers lay dead at his feet. Truly, Hawke thought she had seen them all.

But the one he wore now was unlike any of them. It lit up his whole face. Every pore seemed to radiate joy. He seemed younger and unburdened, perhaps as he had once been as Leto, before he’d suffered years of torment and strife under Danarius. She’d never seen him this unabashedly happy, and to know she was the one who put it there was beyond what words could articulate.

What else could she do but kiss him?

She closed her eyes, imprinting that smile to her memory, before she leaned down and captured his mouth with hers. Their lips molded together with ease, like they’d been doing it for years. She could taste a hint of wine against his chapped lips. It was familiar and welcoming.

His tongue pressed against her lips and she opened up for him with a sigh. She had _missed_ this. Missed him invading her senses, filling in her world completely and blocking all else out. Her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, aching to be as physically close to him as possible. His fingers dug into her shoulders and back.

“ _Relm_ …” he groaned against her mouth.

They broke apart briefly, chasing their breaths as they intermingled. She affectionately bumped her forehead against his. “Yes, Fenris?” she asked, feigning innocence.

He said nothing, biting back a growl before pulling her in for another kiss. She laughed against his mouth but was quickly cut short when his hips jerked against hers. She gasped, returning his gesture with a slow grind of her own. His hands snapped to her hips and held them, fingers kneading into her backside as he pulled her flush against him.

Her whole body felt alight, the magic in her blood surging at the prolonged contact with Fenris’s lyrium markings. Her mind became fuzzy as each kiss they shared deepened, going from soft and slow to passionate and demanding. Their fingers tugged at each other’s clothes, and buttons and laces were steadily being undone. A familiar ache began to grow in between her legs, one Hawke had gotten used to either ignoring or dealing with alone.

But not tonight.

Fenris seemed to have the same idea as well. He drifted back marginally, his lips ghosting over neck as he said, “Stay with me tonight.” He pressed a kiss to the column of her throat. “It isn’t as comfortable as your home, but-”

Hawke shook her head, placing a kiss against his temple. “You’re here,” she whispered. “That’s enough. _You’re_ enough.”

And he always would be.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this shamelessly fluffy? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely not.


End file.
